(Continuing from Purrs from the Kitten Goddess)
The darkness is foreboding, a cloying scent of rotting flesh and unrestrained madness drip from the miasma filled air. Eddies of sickly fog swirl and lazily drift about the nightmares haunting the ever-present night. Screams permeate the landscape, gutteral squalls of horror that deafen the ear with the force of their timultuous cacophony. Order does not rule here. Order has no hold here. This is a realm of chaos, the nether world, a hell of sorts. There is no sense to be made. Up is down. Earth flows like water. Dogs mew like cats.
Yet...
A Figure emerges. It can just be seen through the sickly gases of the dimension, resting upon the ground amid the endless chaos, huddled, rocking. The fog closes about him, shrouding, hiding anything and everything nearby. Voices break the timeless eminations of unrestrained entropy. A discussion? A meeting? A torture session?
"One and one are two... Two and two are four... Four and four are eight... ", recites the weary prisoner, his speech timed with the repetitive motion of his rocking. Long, ratty hair shrouds his pallid face, ragged shuddering breath weezes with each pronounced syllable.
A second, weasellish voice chimes in, "Just give up. None of this matters. Give in to the nether. Allow the chaos to claim you. Find oblivion." The chaos swirls with each spoken word. The screams continue unabated.
The figure shudders, "Eight and eight are sixteen... Sixteen and sixteen are thirty-two..." continuing the litany without pause, seemingly without hearing.
A third voice intrudes upon the man's vocalizations, "Pay! Make them all pay!" A psychotic laugh cuts through the tortured screams, chilling to the bone. "Kill something... anything... make it bleed! Cut... cut... cut. Itsy bitsy pieces even!" The laughter continues, sickening to hear. "I will show you the way." The voice falls ominously silent. A talon can be seen, scarring the figure's already blooded form, tracing a pattern upon his weathered skin.
Pained he continues, undaunted, "Thirty-two and thirty-two are ..."
"No escape. There is no escape for you!" Snorts the ferret voice. "Give up! Give UP!"
The fog swirls... excited by the passage of his wings before enshrouding him once more.
Now... lost to sight... unseen... yet still heard.
Posted by Navarre at August 5, 2004 01:24 AM